The Devil's in the Details
by Scarlett Burns
Summary: Chloe thought she was done with the monumental revelations after she saw the devil himself standing over her ex-fiance's dead body. She had no idea how wrong she was. (Takes place post 3.24)


**The Devil's in the Details  
** _A Lucifer Fan Fic_

Author's Note: This is a post-reveal one-shot set after the events of 3.24 (A Devil of My Word). It does not take into account any spoilers for the upcoming season 4.

Summary: Chloe thought she was done with the monumental revelations after she saw the devil himself standing over her ex-fiance's dead body. She had no idea how wrong she was.

* * *

It had been weeks since Chloe had seen him. Weeks.

Weeks since she'd stumbled into a nightmare, and a revelation. Weeks since she told him to 'stay away', her voice shaking with shock and fear, her feet unable to keep from backing away at the sight in front of her.

A little over six weeks later and she'd come to realize the worst part was... he did; Lucifer Morningstar stayed away. Now that she'd had time to process, time to think and think again, she could admit to herself that when it came to the important stuff he almost always did what she asked, was almost always there.

The times he wasn't? When his actions were so frustratingly impossible to understand... well, she now suspected she at least partially knew why.

But she needed to know _more_. So much more. The longer she stayed away from him, the more questions she had, and only he had the answers to them. Only he could make the crazy world that had just opened up to her understandable again.

The truly insane part? She only trusted _him_ to tell her the truth.

That epiphany was ultimately what had her snatching her keys off the kitchen counter top and climbing into her car this sunny afternoon, intent on finally seeking him out. Despite seeing the truth, despite _knowing_ he was who and _what_ he'd always said he was, the supposed Father of Lies, she still trusted Lucifer to not lie to her. To not hurt her. Because now more then ever it was clear; he'd been telling her the truth all along, and he'd had every opportunity to do something nefarious or _evil_ if he'd wanted to; to her or to Trixie, and he never had.

She parked at Lux, shut off the engine and stepped out of her car. She stood there for a moment, looking up at the towering building and the penthouse located at the top. If people only knew, only believed who truly resided there... she let out a disbelieving laugh and shook her head, making her way to the entrance.

As usual she was let in right away, no questions asked. It was a silly thing but she felt a flutter of happiness in her chest that in six long weeks she was still welcome with open doors. She took for granted he'd always welcome her, but after she'd given him the cold shoulder for so long, he'd have every right not too. The closer she got to seeing him, the more ashamed she felt by how long it had taken her to work up the nerve to come here in the first place.

At five o'clock on a Wednesday, Lux wasn't terribly busy yet, so it didn't take long to glance around from the top of the stairs and come to the conclusion that Lucifer wasn't milling around in his club. Inquiring with Patrick standing behind the bar mixing a drink, she learned that he hadn't seen Lucifer today, or much at all for the last couple of weeks.

"Did he leave town?" she asks, afraid of the answer.

"Nah, he'll usually let us know when he's going to be gone for a while, hands off the duties he usually takes care of and all that." He tilts his head in curiosity. "You here on a case? Doesn't seem like I've seen you around lately."

"No... I, well I've been on leave. Only started back up again a couple weeks ago, but they have me on desk duty." He offers her a drink, and to hell with it, she takes it. She downs it quick, and gestures to the elevator. "OK if I go check to see if he's up there?"

Patrick looks at her funny, takes the empty glass she's just set down. "Since when have you ever needed to ask?" he says with a slight guffaw. He motions towards the elevator with a nod of the head. "Don't know if the boss is in today, but you're welcome to go and take a look."

Worry starts to creep into her stomach as she thanks Patrick and heads towards the elevator. The worry blossoming into a bit of dread as she presses the button for the penthouse and makes her way up. She couldn't even say for sure why; whether it was from fear that she'd find it empty of his possessions or that it had been so long and so much had happened that she wouldn't know how to even talk to him anymore, she couldn't say, but the ding of the elevator doors quickly brought her out of her thoughts with a start.

The doors slid open, revealing the penthouse just as she remembered it the last time she was here. Stepping out of the elevator she noted the furniture was all still there; the piano the proud centerpiece of his home, not a speck of dust on it. Nothing was covered in sheets, the bar was still stocked, and a quick check in the cabinet by the bar confirmed his overnight bag wasn't gone, yet the stillness and quiet indicated that he probably wasn't home either.

Clearing her throat, she walked further into the penthouse and called his name tentatively, just to be sure. Nothing.

She bit her bottom lip as she glanced around. She really hadn't thought this through. She hadn't called or even texted to let him know she was coming over. That today was the day, after weeks of radio silence, that she'd finally snapped out of her stupor and made up her mind to see him again. All because she needed to understand.

Him. Everything.

God – _shit, she needed to find a new vocabulary for times like these_ – she'd really left Lucifer hanging. No doubt wondering if she ever wanted to see him again, if she still wanted to work with him. The first couple of weeks, he'd called and texted her here and there, yet she'd never replied back. Shame made her cheeks flush with guilt at the thought. Sure, she had been shocked, but she hadn't really needed all the time that she'd taken... she had been hiding, truth be told, from him. Not from who he was, but of the new reality his very existence represented. It was one thing to research the Devil online or in books, it was another to stare that research in the face and have it call you 'Detective' in a sinfully divine voice that promised you the world.

Staying away had helped at first, but it had also done nothing to answer all her questions and doubts as the weeks had ticked by. _Was_ she OK with Lucifer? Really? She had Trixie to consider in all this, and certainly just by the nature of... _what_ he was, he had to bring an added risk to all those around him. She had no idea, with a whole new supernatural world suddenly open to her, what added dangers were even out there that she should worry about.

All the Googling and reading she'd attempted to do these last few weeks had told her nothing about Lucifer or his past. Not really. She felt like she'd found plenty of things about the devil, yet nothing at all. She had no way to know what was the truth, what was a lie, and what was something in-between. Not without asking someone who knows... and that someone wasn't a Priest.

She had to go to the source. That's why she found herself in his penthouse, sitting on the couch alone, waiting for an angel to come to her.

 _A fucking archangel._

A few minutes had gone by, and he hadn't shown up. The sun would set in an hour or so, so she picked up her phone and dialed his number for the first time in a month and a half. It rang for a minute, no answer. When it went to voice mail she hung up and texted him instead. She wasn't sure why she hadn't earlier other then she didn't want to lose the nerve she'd gathered to finally see him face to face again in the first place. What to say? She started with a simple, straight forward truth.

 _'I'm at Lux. I'd like to see you tonight.'_

She hit send, then stared at the phone for a couple of minutes, hoping to see he'd read it or get a reply. When neither happened she forced herself to put it down.

Looking around the penthouse for the hundredth time like it was the first, she stood. The new knowledge of the owner's identity peaking her interest. What does the Devil choose to surround himself with?

Her eyes rested on a side of the penthouse she'd never given much thought to; the library. Glancing back down at her phone she saw there was still no reply. So she made her way over to the wall of books, having never really looked too closely at it in the past, afraid that all she'd find was every edition of the Kama Sutra ever printed.

But no, as she stepped up close to the shelf before her she realized that she'd grossly underestimated her partner, and in part of her mind - despite her belief that she knew him better then most - it was clear that she'd still been judging him through the lens of an eccentric, rich playboy like all the rest.

As her eyes traveled the shelves she became aware that her view of him – of the things he did and said, what he enjoyed and hated – would change with what she'd found out, there was no stopping that. It changed everything.

In his collection were what looked to be old journals, ancient scrolls, books from no doubt ever decade, in every language she could imagine. She couldn't even tell what a lot of them were. Two months ago she wouldn't have believed he could read all these, that it was all just for show. Today, she knew better.

He owned a lot of books about music, and even had a couple shelves that seemed to be devoted to just sheet music. No surprise. His love of music could be felt throughout the walls of LUX itself. She pulled from the shelf a clear, sealed protective cover with very old, weathered sheet music inside. Her eyes bugged out and she inhaled sharply. Mozart. She pulled out more of them; they spanned decades, centuries. Bach, Elton John, Rachmaninoff, Toru Takemitsu, William Kapell, Eileen Joyce, Schubert, Jazz Gillum... it went on and on. These were clearly not for him to play from; they appeared to be originals. Pieces that clearly could be in a museum. Some had personal notes of thanks. Her head spun as the reality of his age hit her, but it didn't stop her from looking further.

Never again was she going to be caught burying her head in the sand when it came to Lucifer. She'd been doing that long enough.

She came across an old looking leather bound journal and opened it. ' _Thanks for the punch up, Will.'_ Her eyes start to burn... all this art, this beautiful creativity, some of the most revered and treasured music and stories of the past, and there was Lucifer, the devil on their shoulder, popping up throughout time.

She glanced back at her phone; it was still dark, no flashing light indicating she'd received a reply back from her initial text or call.

It occurred to her then: beyond actually having him there with her, looking through his library was probably the next best way to get to know the enigma that was Lucifer Morningstar.

Why had she never looked before? _Really_ looked?

Some detective she was. For some reason, when it came to understanding or investigating Lucifer, all her years of experience flew out the window. Something had stopped her from wanting to know the truth about all the strange things he could do, from wanting to get too involved in his clearly bizarre life and past, yet at the same time trusting him one hundred percent as her partner.

She'd needed the eggs.

She turned back, carefully replacing the journal in the spot she'd extricated it from, and moved on to a new row.

Only a portion of his books were in languages she could understand in any capacity, but she could make out that his collection was organized by topic, and alphabetical by title within the topic. He was nothing if not insanely orderly when it came to his things, his person and his business, and it was such a strange and striking contradiction to the rest of his personality; he was order and chaos all rolled into one.

He collected a wide variety of topics, but there were a few topics in particular that seemed to dominate over the rest. Music, of course. Fiction was another; from plays to novels, it was clear he liked a good story. Astronomy... now that one was unexpected. She plucked one of them off the shelf; it was a book on astrophysics. Seemed a bit heavy for him, and for her. She returned it to its place. She pulled out another; _Hubble Cosmos - 25 years of new vistas in space_. A photography book. As a matter of fact, he had lots of books with photography from space.

He also had books on astrology, string theory, and constellations. She hummed with interest, she had no idea! Astronomy wasn't something he ever spoke about with her, but it clearly fascinated him if his book collection had anything to say on the matter. Pulling her attention away from the books for a moment she glanced towards his balcony and the beautiful view of the city and sky it had, then really took note of the floor to ceiling windows wrapping around the penthouse, before her gaze landed on her phone once more. Still nothing.

A thought niggled at her brain. She _needed_ to find him. Tonight.

She put away the book in her hands and returned to her phone. Deciding to use some of the resources her job blessed her with, she called the precinct and asked for a favor.

* * *

It ended up being relatively easy to find him. When the GPS tracked Lucifer's phone to a remote, secluded shoreline out of town she couldn't say she was surprised. After all, the last time she'd pulled the same stunt to find him, he'd been in a similar location albeit closer to the city. She wondered if there was any deeper meaning there, why he always sought out the coast, or if he just enjoyed watching the waves.

By the time she found his corvette parked in a pullout on the side of the road, it was dark, and getting cool. She marveled that she went from being nervous seeking Lucifer out in the very public Lux, to willingly seeking him out in a desolate area in the dark of night.

She was meeting the Devil, literally, willingly, in the most unsafe circumstances she could think of. If she was a character in a movie she'd call herself a fucking idiot.

The pullout wasn't on the beach; it serviced a single, gravel trail that wove through brush up to a clifftop viewpoint a little ways off. She couldn't see him from where she was parked, but he had to be up there.

Grabbing her jacket and a flashlight from the trunk, she bundled up and braced herself for the cold wind that would be coming off the Pacific once she reached the top, and set off down the path.

It took a good fifteen minutes of walking up the deserted trail before she finally found him. She didn't try to be quiet, she wasn't trying to sneak up on him, so he had to have heard her coming. How good was his hearing? For all she knew he could have heard her pull up and park.

Right before she caught sight of him she heard a vaguely familiar _woosh –_ she knew she'd heard it before, and as she turned the bend and cleared some tall brush, seeing him for the first time in six very long weeks, it hit her that she'd heard it on _that_ day. The day everything had changed. When impossibly, he'd gotten her to the rooftop and then just as impossibly disappeared again within a blink of an eye.

Feathers; so many littered all over the rooftop and all around Pierce and his goons. The images flashed into her mind and it was suddenly clear as day what that sound had to be... wings.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

The gusty wind hit her as she approached him, the light from the flashlight illuminating the ground in front of her. He sat with his back to her, leaning against a large rock and looking out into the sky. He was dressed down, at least for him, in just simple dress pants and a maroon shirt, sans jacket. As she came to a stop a few feet away from him she suddenly found her voice and brain unwilling to cooperate.

He didn't turn around as she stood there, floundering at what to say. But once again he came to her rescue.

"Good Evening, Detective," he said softly, gaze still firmly fixed far away...on the stars, she realized. He looked deep in thought, even with her interruption.

Finding her voice at last she said equally as quietly, "You don't have to hide them from me, you know. Not anymore," referring to his wings.

Lucifer took a deep breath, tilted his head up into the wind and closed his eyes. She thought for a moment he'd let her see them, but no wings appeared. She took the moment to look at him; really look. Despite the chill of the air his sleeves were unbuttoned and rolled up to the elbows, the breeze whipped his hair as it danced around his face and his beard was perhaps a day past its normal scruff. His face, though... there was none of his usual infectious energy, joy or happiness there. That eternal boy that lived inside him, that loved life, was absent tonight. He looked tired, weary, and older then she'd ever seen him look before. For the first time looking at him with _this_ face, his human one, she actually felt like she was looking at an ancient being.

An archangel.

"Lucifer," she said a bit breathless, unable to keep a little awe out of her voice as she uttered his name.

He opened his eyes then and at last they met her own. The feeling of something impossibly old and 'other' washed over her once more. How had she never _seen_? Never _noticed_? Never _felt_ it?

She almost took a step back at the weight of his stare, and her thoughts. She caught herself at the last minute doing so and stopped with an aborted half step, but unfortunately not before he also noticed.

Lucifer looked pained before sighing in resignation, like it was what he expected.

"What can I do for you tonight, Detective?" he asked after a moment, head tilting to the side as he studied her.

She took a deep breath, and then another. Felt herself regaining her equilibrium with each exhale. She closed the gap between them and sat down next to him, his intense gaze on her the whole time, and when she plopped down right beside him he raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"Chloe," she stated once she was settled, turning to look at him again.

"What?"

She licked her lips and briefly turned to admire the view of the sky, just as he had been a minute earlier. "Up here, tonight, I'm not here on business. I'm not here as a detective; just a friend. At least I hope so, if I haven't screwed it up."

He scoffed lightly. "Have you hit your head?" he inquired, and he really did seem seriously concerned that she actually might have.

Turning back towards him she rubbed her hands together to warm them up. "Why would you ask that?"

"Hmmm," he intoned, a nervous hand fidgeting with the black onyx ring on the other. "I wouldn't say the devil is a popular choice of friend, my dear."

He said it as if wanting him as a friend now was crazy. Maybe it was... but there was something she needed to say, and an intuition told her that if she didn't say it now... maybe she'd never have another chance.

"I called you earlier. Texted too."

"Left my phone in the car."

Ah. "You weren't at Lux..."

"Clearly. So you tracked my phone, did you now?" he said with the smallest of smiles. "I thought you weren't here as _the detective_?" he teased; it was halfhearted and forced, but it warmed her heart to hear it none-the-less.

She smiled in reply and turned towards the nearly full moon hanging above them. "I missed you," she finally admitted, both to herself and to him.

"Missed the devil?" Lucifer derided, shaking his head. "Don't lie, not to me. I do believe you were the one who didn't wish to see me," he said, bitterness and hurt coloring his voice, despite his effort to hide it. Her heart constricted.

"What's the real reason you're here?" he demanded, as if she had some secret ulterior motive.

"Why is that so impossible to believe?" she asked, frowning.

"No one longs to see the devil darling unless they desire a deal. But truth or not, that's not why you came _here_ tonight. **Don't lie to me** ," he demanded angrily, reaching into his pants pocket and pulling out his cigarette case. "I wasn't created to be _liked,_ " he muttered resentfully before she could reply, almost to himself, as he plucked a cigarette out of his case and jammed it between his lips.

She watched for a moment as he lit his cigarette and tucked the case back into his pocket. Taking a drag he again looked a million miles away. He was clearly upset, but leaving it open for her to ask her questions... he wasn't dancing around the subject of who he is. "So you were just created to, what? Punish people? Your only purpose was to rule over hell and be feared?" she pauses for a moment, studying his pained expression. "I don't believe that."

He sat there for a long moment, his body heat beside her keeping her warmer then she otherwise would be out at night on the clifftop. He took another puff off his cigarette, and it was a good minute or two before he answered.

"What do you believe?" he finally asks when the silence almost becomes too much to bear. The question is whispered fervently, she could swear a glint of red illuminated his eyes for just a second as he said it, and it feels like something monumental hinges on her answer.

Another question hits her: Why was he out here? Was he going to leave? And if so, where?

The thought makes her stomach clench. She lays a gentle hand on his arm, and he looks away again as she squeezes it. He looks... sad. It's uncomfortable to look at, especially on him; it seems unnatural. The image of his _other_ face flashes in her mind for the briefest of moments and she finally realizes just now that when she'd seen his other face... there had been an infinite sadness within that ruined visage as well.

She takes a deep breath as she forms her answer, makes sure what she's about to say is the... devil's honest truth. Because he'll know if it's not. She's sure of that. He'll know because it's his job to know. It's his purpose. One of them.

"I believe... everyone's gotten you so wrong Lucifer, since... well, forever. I don't have any faith in God; I don't know him and what I do know, well it's not exactly reassuring... but Lucifer, I have faith in **you**."

For a second he looks amazed, like she'd just performed a miracle in front of his very eyes... and it was blindly beautiful gracing his roguish features... but it didn't last, and quickly crumpled. He squeezed his eyes shut and started to turn away, but she held onto his arm even tighter. He stood suddenly, tearing away from her grasp, before whirling around to face her again, and she let out a small gasp at his eyes, suddenly ablaze with fire. "You can't have faith in a monster, Chloe," he declares vehemently.

She feels some anger bubble up in return, and much like his own, it's not aimed at the person in front of her. For her, it was aimed at everyone in his life that's made him believe he's a monster in the first place.

"You're not," Chloe demands with finality. She watches him toss his cigarette down into the dirt angrily, stamping it out. She knows he's not a monster, despite what's written about him. She knows it in her heart, and in his actions.

He shakes his head, his eyes are still red. She doesn't think he realizes it. He lets out a frustrated sound. "Chloe, you can't say that. You don't even know me."

Chloe bites her lip as her eyes start to burn, but unlike his it wasn't with fire. She finally manages,"I'm trying to," and she's not even sure she said it loud enough for him to hear over the wind gusting around them. "I _want_ to."

But he hears. Of course he does. Because he looks at her with a sadness she can't even begin to comprehend, those otherworldly eyes dimming from a raging fire to a dying one. They're foreign and terrifying yet fascinating all at the same time. That fire that burns from within, alive and ever-changing... as dynamic and unpredictable as Lucifer himself. They are undeniably _him_. As she waits for him to say something – anything – there's a flicker of scars and horrible burns across his face, and like a mirage it's gone before she's even sure she saw it. But she knows she did when he quickly turns away from her and sets more distance between them; his face in his hands, ashamed at the loss of control, even for that split-second.

"I'm sorry," he says brokenly. "Ever since I..." he chokes up for a moment, but drops his hands down to his sides in defeat. His back is to her. He tries again to explain. "Ever since I killed Cain... or Pierce if you like... it's been... difficult to control."

A tear finds its way down her cheek and she wipes at it with the back of her hand. All this time... had he been holed up in his penthouse, or otherwise out alone and isolated because he was having trouble hiding the other side of himself? She felt guilty... for staying away for so long, for not checking in to at least make sure everything was alright. She stood and joined him, coming around in front of him so she could see his face, now completely normal, but his eyes still lit with a power she didn't understand. He abruptly sagged tiredly when his eyes met hers. That anger – and no doubt self loathing – gone as quickly as it had appeared. He looked back at her with an expression so devoid of hope she couldn't even fathom it. "I'm a torturer. A murderer. You've seen it yourself. I'm loath to admit it, but perhaps my family is right after all... I shouldn't be here."

"Here as in L.A. or..."

"As in the earthly plane."

She doesn't realize she's crying fully until his hands reach up and cradle her face, brushing away the tears with his thumbs. "I should leave," he states quietly, and it looks like the hardest thing he's had to say tonight. The otherworldly light in his eyes extinguishes, returning to their human guise. Without thinking she swiftly grabs hold of his shirt in her fists and yanks him closer to her with a fervent "No!"

The action and the words startle him, and he doesn't attempt to pull away as she's right up against him. "Where would you go?" she demands, now angry, because her heart knows the answer before he confirms it.

"Back to hell, of course. It's where I belong," he answers, as if it's not the worst thing in the world, but a fact that he cannot escape, and she supposes he's not wrong there. But it's not right, either.

"No, it's not," she says, giving him a desperate shake, still not relinquishing her death-grip on his shirt. She's livid on his behalf, for reasons she can't even fully form in her mind right now. "Show me!" she says forcefully, and she sounds furious, which seems to unsettle Lucifer even further. But she can't help it, because this goes far deeper then tonight, or several years from now, or when she's long gone. And it's _horrible_.

"Show me!" she repeats, when he doesn't immediately comply.

"What?" Lucifer asks, shaking himself out of his shock.

"Your eyes. I want to have this talk looking into your _real_ eyes just as you're looking into mine."

She doesn't ask for his other face, or wings. She doesn't need them. She knows without having to be explicitly told that they are both too much for him right now anyway. Neither are important. But the saying 'the eyes are the true window to the soul' was never more apt then when it came to him and she wants to see, and she wants to show him she'll accept that other side of him. That she's not afraid.

He stares at her for a long time, as if trying to figure out some impossible math equation. She doesn't realize he isn't breathing until he lets out a very long, slow exhale... and with it the brown burns out of his eyes. They burn bright in the dark, and she stares into them for a moment, captivated.

"I do. Belong in hell. But even if you were right, I have nowhere else to go," he answers, his gaze wandering past her, returning to the night sky.

Goddammit, she's sobbing now, and she doesn't even care that it's in front of him of all people, of all... beings. "You belong here, Lucifer."

A small, sad smile from him and she's pulling him completely to her, holding onto him tightly in a fierce hug. Placing his hand softly behind her head, returning her embrace, he kisses the top of her head. "You have no idea how much I wish that were true," he whispers, and sighing deeply.

She closes her eyes, refusing to let go of him as they stand there, the heat from him quickly warming her from the chill surrounding them. With one last squeeze she looks up at him again, her eyes wet, and he's looking at her too, his own dance with a slow, rolling fire.

Letting go, she moves her grip from around his waist to his shoulders. "Lucifer, I don't care what anyone's told you or what you think you deserve... all that aside, just answer me this one question truthfully."

"Always, Chloe."

She forces a teasing smirk, and puts on a horrendous British accent as she asks, "Where do you _desire_ to be."

He swallows hard, his hand tucking several strands of hair whipping around her face behind her ear. The fires burn low in his eyes; a campfire in need of more kindling.

"What I _desire,_ Chloe... it's irrelevant."

He says it like someone would say 'it's raining today' or 'that's the moon'; a fact. Nothing more, nothing less.

Chloe doesn't want to dwell on that. She can't. She pushes past it. "Answer the question," she demands, as if he were Trixie trying to hide the fact that she'd just eaten chocolate cake.

The fire is stoked by a single log; sparks, lighting up the rims of his irises. He breathes out, and chuckles in disbelief but obliges her request. "I desire to be free... here. I want to be like you – you humans. Free to choose your own path, be what you want to be without interference."

The flames within crackle and dance high when he speaks of freedom, and she's transfixed and moved by a desire that should be any living thing's right; something denied him for his entire life. He's looking at her seriously now, his expression begging her to understand. Eyes a deep, maroon red, the fire recedes back to barely an ember and the moonlight is suddenly reflected in his dark eyes. "Is it so wrong, Chloe?" he implores. "I've never understood _why_."

He sounds broken and lost. "Why?" she breathes, unsure of what exactly he's speaking of, or how she could possibly answer even if she were.

"Why... why am I the only one that sees the injustice? For angels to not have free will? To be forced to follow blindly? To not be allowed to question?" He lets go of her and walks towards the cliff, spreading his arms wide as he looks up. "Why, you bastard, did you make me with this torturous desire burning in my soul?! To want more then I could ever have? To have a will and desires of my own?"

He's yelling at the sky now and she makes a sloppy attempt to wipe the tears still streaming down her face. "Lucifer," she starts, her voice shaky. If she damns herself for saying this next thing, to hell with it... literally. In this moment, right now, she didn't care. " _You_ aren't the one in the wrong."

He spins to face her, stunned. She's quite certain in that moment no one has ever said that to him before. "I'm not free of wrong," he admits, but he's also not ashamed as he says it. His eyes blossom like a small explosion. Pride. Pride for perhaps standing up for what he believed, even if it damned him, even if he didn't always go about it the right way.

A sudden small, incredulous laugh escapes her. "Oh, I'm sure of that," she jokes lightly... or at least attempts to.

He shakes his head at her like she's just not getting it. "I started a rebellion."

Chloe regards him seriously, everything she knows about Lucifer running through her brain, and everything she's gleaned tonight, then concludes, "Well, maybe someone needed to."

He stands stock still in seeming disbelief, until he shakes himself out of it. He says nothing, but pulls out another cigarette and lights it, inhaling deeply. Turning towards the ocean, towards the stars, he exhales a perfect ring of smoke up into the night. His uncharacteristic quietness tonight has her feeling unnerved, even more so then the knowledge that he's truly the devil he's claimed all along.

They are quiet for a while. Him smoking, her watching. She doesn't want to press anymore on the rebellion, and where that led; not tonight. Shuffling towards the large rock he'd been leaning against earlier, she hunkers down next to it so it's blocking a lot of the strong wind that's begun to sting her face. Once she's slightly more comfortable, sheltered a bit from the elements, she breaks the silence he doesn't currently seem willing to break.

"You didn't answer my question from before," she says, and he turns and raises an inquiring eyebrow at her. "About your purpose."

He starts to take the cigarette out of his mouth to answer, but she continues, cutting him off, because she thinks she's just stumbled onto an incredible idea, but only he can say if it's true. "Lucifer, earlier today I was waiting for you at your penthouse." She turns a bit sheepish. "While I was waiting, I looked at your library; Mozart, Bach, Shakespeare... you were there with them, and countless others... why?"

She can tell her change of topic has caught him off guard. The red flames dance and his mesmerizing eyes are all she can see in the dark; they are all consuming, but they don't lie.

It's too dark to see much of the rest of his face from where she's sitting, but she can see him shrug. "No one can resist making a deal with the devil."

She shakes her head at that answer. She's not letting him get off that easy. "That's not it."

"Oh? It's not?" Those eyes fully flash into a brilliant yellow for a split moment, then back to a raging red. "Well then, do enlighten me."

"The things you've kept with you through the years – they all resulted in beautiful music, or stories that have stayed around for centuries, some of the most amazing things people have created."

He takes another drag off his cigarette, flicks his hand dismissively. "I didn't create those masterpieces. They did."

"No, but you inspired them, didn't you?" she says in realization. She doubts he sees it, recognizes it. "Passion, desire," she continues on, looking straight into his fierce, otherworldly stare. "You can't create without them. You can't move people with art without a _passion_ behind the work. You can't create without the _desire_ to bring something into being that doesn't yet exist."

"What are you getting at?" he asks. He doesn't understand. She doesn't quite either... but she feels she's getting close to a truth that needs to be spoken.

"You inspire passion and desire of all kinds, with everyone around you – every human you meet. The desire can be beautiful, or it can be horrible, it depends on the person. But you, you amplify it in people; I've seen it. You've showed me."

He hums in agreement about his ability to draw out desire in others. "Everyone but you, you freak," he says with a wistful smile, hearkening back to what he'd said to her while they'd worked their very first case together.

An amused huff escapes her. "Even with me, Lucifer." She holds her hand up to stop his protests. "Oh sure, you can't make me spill my guts on your whim, but you still inspire me. I've told you before... you make me a better cop. You bring out my passion for solving cases, figuring out puzzles, and my desire for justice. Your passion and ability to live in the moment has inspired me to take a leap or two I know I wouldn't have without you." Smiling, she marvels, "It's just in your nature, Lucifer."

He stares at her for a long time and she falls into those bright, burning flames once more, but they don't frighten her at all, they just warm her. Because they're _him_. "Don't you get it?" she asks at last, when he seems unwilling to speak. "Don't you see?"

Those beautiful eyes – because they are beautiful – blaze with fire that turns white as she looks at him. She can already tell she's going to miss seeing them at work, when he needs to blend in and play human. Because he's not leaving. She won't let him.

Still, he says nothing. His silence is beginning to make her regret going down this avenue of conversation. She can't really see his face in the dark and she'd be sorry for that if his eyes didn't give away his seeming awe.

"Your eyes are beautiful," she blurts into the uncomfortable silence.

That seems to snap him out of whatever malaise had settled over him. "Excuse me?!"

"It's a shame you have to hide them. Don't, with me. When we're alone."

That's when his stony facade begins to crack, just a little bit. A slight tremor passes through his hand as he lowers his cigarette, taps the ashes into the wind. "Unlike the rest of me?" he asks quietly, although she doesn't think it's really a question.

She shakes her head because she thinks she gets it now. "You're other face, Lucifer, that's not you... it's what happened to you," she pauses for a moment, because she isn't truly sure, she's going with her gut and it's partially a question. "Isn't it?"

"My punishment," he answers, tossing the spent cigarette to the ground, averting his eyes.

She gestures to him, assuming even though she has trouble seeing him in the dim moonlight he probably has no trouble seeing her. "What I'm looking at now, it's also... you, isn't it?" she finally gets the courage to ask, because this is something she's been wondering since she'd seen the truth.

He tilts his head, regarding her questioningly. "It is."

She lets out a breath she didn't know she was holding. "So you're not possessing some poor man from Hampstead, then?"

His eyes widen, like it hadn't occurred to him that she might of thought that until now, and then it clicks. "No, no, I'm not possessing some chap."

She nods, thoroughly relieved.

"Why all the books on astronomy?" she asks, because she can't get a crazy thought out of her mind.

Morningstar.

The Lightbringer.

It couldn't really mean _that_ , could it?

He smiles, and this one is a bit wider then any other he's given her tonight. His eyes almost shimmer like fireworks, a little of his cockiness returns. "I'm afraid pride is a sin I take... great pride in."

"No..." she says, astounded, because she can accept he's the king of hell, the angel of passion and desire, but surely the angel that had given humanity the stars, the sun, the moon, couldn't be the same one that had been vilified as evil incarnate since the beginning of time.

He's serious again, eyes becoming almost pure white, just a tinge of orange and yellow dance around the outsides. He throws his hands up high and leans back, does a full turn as he looks up at what he created. "They are the one thing I did for Him that I am proud of."

Overwhelmed, she's momentarily struck speechless. Both by what he was responsible for giving humanity and at the injustice of an archangel that's inspired and created so much beauty has suffered so long in -what she assumed - the ugliest of places. "Oh my..."utters and immediately stops as his gaze snaps to her, pinning hers down with a teasing grin on his lips, expression clearly daring her to say the 'G' word. Instead, she finishes with a spluttered "...Devil", and he laughs.

Actually laughs. A full laugh. Not a chuckle or a scoff. It's infectious, and she quickly finds herself doing the same.

"Until recently I was normally either in Hell where I couldn't see them at all or grounded on the earthly plane... so to speak. I missed them. The stars. The books, the pictures... it was like visiting them up close again, in a small way, even when I couldn't."

"They're... _your_ masterpiece," she says it like it's a revelation, and even that doesn't seem to be giving it the due it deserves. But there isn't words for it. It's too incredible to even fully grasp. It seems to be enough for him though, because he gives her the most brilliant smile, and his eyes ignite with light. Again, his happiness is infectious, and she finds herself smiling back.

"The constellations?"

"Well, I had to have a little fun now, didn't I? The devil is in the details, after all. It was quite entertaining to see what you humans saw from down here, and what you lot attributed to them."

He looked contemplative for a moment. "It's... quite astounding, what you humans have accomplished, to get even just the tiniest bit closer to them."

She's speechless for a moment at his candor, and it's definitely going to take some getting used to, hearing him refer to humans as if he's not one, and knowing that it's true. "What about the astrology?" she asks curiously after she reels herself back in from her introspection.

He approaches once more and sits beside her, meeting her eyes, fire dancing from within his. "It amuses me," he answers with a wiggle of his eyebrows, and she laughs again because it's just such a _normal_ reply. She sobers after a minute or so, looking up at the sky above them, just now really noticing how well you could see the stars out here, away from the city, immediately spotting the big and little dippers. She smiles and looks back at him. "Thank you... for them," she says, pointing to the sky. He doesn't have to say he's never been thanked for it before. That much was clearly written all over his face already, but he says so anyway.

"No one has ever said that to me. Thank you, Chloe."

She can't help it, she reaches out and hugs him again, repeats the same thing she'd said before, when she'd first found him. "They all have you so wrong."

He exhales like a huge weight has been lifted off him, as he sinks into her embrace. "I missed you, darling," he admits quietly, "I... didn't think I'd see you again, and if I did, it would be only to say goodbye."

She squeezes him tightly. "I'm sorry, Lucifer. I should have come to see you much sooner."

"You have nothing to be sorry for. Not a human in this world would blame you for never wanting to see the Devil again."

"I would... besides, you can't get rid of me that easy," she says, smiling against his shoulder.

He chuckles at that, and she smiles at the sound. They sit there in silence, looking at the beautiful tapestry of light he'd hung above them for quite some time. She can't be sure how long they sat there in comfortable silence, but long enough for him to slip an arm around her shoulders and take the chill of the night away once more with his closeness.

"You're such a freak," he suddenly proclaims with a laugh.

She grins, pokes him in the chest. "Takes one to know one."

And she knows... she really is fine with who and what he was, he's going to stay, and everything's going to be OK.


End file.
